Nine Lives
by Andarta Wildhearth
Summary: There is so much more to a certain 'Kneazle?cat' than meets the eye. This is the retelling of 'Prisoner of Azkaban' from a 'Kneazline' point-of-view, and who knows, we might even gain a little insight into the life of a very extraordinary creature.


CHAPTER ONE: Life at the Magical Menagerie

You know deep in your heart that you should have been chosen by now (or 'adopted' as the two-leggeds in this age call it). In fact, you should have been 'adopted' a long time ago because you have very little time left to complete your work before your time runs out. Personally, for you, time is somewhat irrelevant, as your time in this world has been extremely extended, so much so that you just want to get this last obligation done with so you may be allowed to move on.

When your new chosen one approaches you, that is when you will act. This has been your way throughout your many lives and you are too old and set in those ways to change them now.

So in the meantime, you spend your time appreciating the sun. Its brightness and warmth fill your days and add a shimmer to your sometimes-matted orange fur. You will grab for yourself an easy nap if you are lucky enough to find an available, sun-filled windowsill, and dream of days gone by and tasks yet to come.

The sun means warmth and satisfaction. The sun means affection from nice old ladies (odd, but it seems only old ladies and a few rather crazy old men truly understand your needs), a scratch on the ear, a stroke of your fur, and it especially means hot meals of roast beef and chicken, which bring you contentment. My goodness, how you do love a hot roasted chicken.

Yes, you understand and appreciate the sun; and you certainly understand the moon as well. The night is your time. Your senses come alive as the moon rises. Your whiskers twitch. No longer are you the content pet purring at the feet of your master. Instead, you become the hunter, the one who actually understands the spirits of the dark.

Darkness, mischief, and time with your wild-friends doing wild things are what you know best about the moon. Your memory drifts to a time when a bright, full moon meant carousing with the others of your odd little pack. Growling and howling at the moon. The unbridled joy of running with them, for once not bound by human rules and regulations; it was all that mattered in that particular life of yours. The noble stag as he sought to protect those in the pack. The playful dog, who was always jumping and frolicking around the others. The timid rat, constantly underfoot and falling behind. (Why your master never let you dispose of that one is beyond your comprehension.) Finally, your master, the one they called Moony, who did not need spells to conjure his inner beast. You could never howl nor run with their pack, not as completely as the four of them did, but you were always there to watch over them, yowling loudly whenever you saw a bright, full moon hanging in the night sky. You yowl now to honor your wild-friends from all those moons ago.

You miss those friends now that you are shut-up in this tiny little place. A place with every imaginable kind of irritating creature contained within its walls. You hate it here; but you know that here is where you must now be, much like you knew you needed to be standing outside the home of the young stag when the evil-one killed him and his wife. You watched over the little-one until the others came to his rescue…it was one of your lives that you gave to him after the evil-one left. You proudly sacrificed that one life to watch over the baby in the moments after his loss. How you tended to him by licking the wound on his pale forehead with your rough, sandy tongue, abating his pain and loneliness for a brief moment. He was too young to know the price you paid to stay with him, how he became your master for that short time and thusly took the sacrifice of one of your lives. You only have nine, you know. One life per master, those are the rules; that is the code. You do realize how many lives you have left at this point, don't you?

Why have you wasted twelve glorious full moons waiting in this pitiful little place? It has been almost unbearable living here with the smell of lesser creatures constantly invading your senses. Oh, the old lady who comes and talks to the strangers, accepting coins in exchange for animals, she is nice enough. She does feed you roast beef and roast chicken, but all you do other than that is sleep away the remainder of your time as you wait idly for your new mistress to arrive.

Then, as the old lady locks the doors to leave you for the night, you perch in the big window, facing the street, and wait for the moon. Wait for the moon and remember…remember the crazy old man you lived with before arriving at this place on the small, cramped, human thoroughfare referred to as the alley. The crazy old brother of the master of the school, the smiling one who would scratch you for hours…it was his destiny to end his wanderlust and open the drinking place near his brother. You hope the crazy-one still provides a secure refuge for others and a safe haven for the brother he calls Albus.

Softly, you jump off your perch and begin to hunt. It is not the mouse or bird that interests you; instead it is the spirit of the one who has eluded you. Every night since the human called Padfoot was taken away, you have hunted for the timid-one but it has been to no avail...he has found a place of sanctuary…for now.

As you search each dusty corner you reminisce upon the other lives you have touched and realize that this life is to be your last task. Nine lives, each given freely in the hope of helping others…this is your code. Memories of the boy-wolf turned man…then the gentle and crazy old man who gave happiness to the world…and finally the memories of the others you have helped flood through you. You are sad, for your long existence will cease once this task is done…and then you will live out a mortal life until the end of your days.

At one point during your over-twelve-moon stay in the little shop of animals, you came to the conclusion that you did not want to like the two-leggeds anymore. They are not loyal to each other at all and they are impatient to a fault. Even the old lady has asked you why you are not sold yet. But how can you tell her that you wait for the one who will help you fulfill your final task?

Still, your code governs you. It has been passed down through your family for eons. Thinking back, you remember that it all began for you with the young wizard and the baby named Arthur who used to pull your tail and scratch you much too roughly, wort that he was. Who would have known that one day he would be king?

But for now, all you can do is wait. Wait for the girl to arrive and take you with her. You will know her when you see her. Her look, her smell, her taste, her sound…it will all feel just right. Your senses have never failed you and even though you have been here for over twelve moons, you know she will be here soon, very soon. She will aid you with your last task: to expose the timid-one and help set Padfoot free.


End file.
